


Sometimes Quiet Is Violent

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3931852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They just stood in the shadows and watched</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Quiet Is Violent

They watched but never spoke. They observed everything from afar but never did anything about it. They could see the pain and suffering that every single person endured on a daily basis that the rest of society was blind to; they could see the hidden secrets that shone so blatantly when they looked people in the eye. It was only the small subtleties that gave it away but it was enough to find a person's life story if they looked hard enough.

People always say that the quiet ones are the most dangerous. They sit there and observe with a contemplative expression and brooding eyes; it hides the pain of the war that rages on within them. They hide in the corners, invisible, hidden away from harsh glares and judging gazes. They see everything and say nothing and nobody will notice because they blend in, oh so silently. They could be plotting a murder with a pretty smile on their face and not one single person would give a second glance. It was a blessing and a curse.

There was a certain boy their caught their attention. The dull brown hair and sullen expression may not have made him stand out in comparison to the menagerie of more interesting coloured hair and outgoing personalities that scattered the hallways, but his eyes told a story far more fascinating than any lesson. There was torment and sorrow and large dark circles underneath from far too many nights of parents arguing and silent beatings that scattered his body in hidden places.

He walked quickly, with a purpose, desperate to be away from the bodies that jostled him so painfully. He flinched so strongly when he was accidentally elbowed, pushing on further with an intense determination. They could tell that it would have only been a mild annoyance for any other person but to him it caused extreme distress as memories of strong hands and covered up black eyes plagued his traumatised thoughts.

He was so determined to get to his destination that he didn't even notice that he was being followed.

They walked hunched over with their head down, by this time the crowds were dissipating and no one bothered to stop them as they slipped out the door to the back of the school. It was almost as if they were invisible.

There he was, finally alone (or so he thought). His breathing was quick and heavy, eyes scrunched up as he tried to deny the tears that threatened to fall. His calloused hands came up to his hair, pulling strongly in despair as he silently screamed, tears coming thick and fast by that time. The sobs racked throughout his whole body, he wasn't even trying to stop them by this point.

They just stood in the shadows and watched.

His self-hatred radiated everywhere as he fell back against the wall, slowly slipping down it until he was a sobbing mess in the floor. He murmured repeatedly about how much he hated himself, about how much he wanted to die until the became a meaningless slur. He hit his head back against the wall over and over and over and over and over again until they were sure he was bleeding. He didn't even care though.

They just stood in the shadows and watched.

He went through the motions of calming himself down, wincing as he apprehensively touched the back of his head to survey the damage. He was regretting it already but at the same time the pain was welcome. It was different from his usual blows. He look deep breathes, fumbling with a packet of cigarettes and lighter, audibly sighing with relief as the cancer stick's deadly poison filled his lungs. It was his only escape, the addiction giving him a few precious seconds of bliss before reality came crashing back down to him and he had to go back to an unwelcoming school and an abusive home.

They just stood in the shadows and watched.

He didn't come to school the next day or the day after that. They would be lying if they said they were not slightly disappointed. It was on the third day that it was announced that he was dead.

His family was showered with fake sympathy as his parents cried crocodile tears. The school thought he was depressed - they didn't know half of it. They had never spoken a word to him, or anyone for that matter, in their life yet they still knew more about him than any teacher or supposed 'friend' ever would. He was completely and utterly broken, inside and out. They couldn't blame him for hanging himself really.

Even at the funeral fake lies were spewed by uncaring family members and guilty classmates. Everyone had turned a blind eye to his cries and silent pleas for help; ignored his existence as they got on with their dull, monotonous lives. It was their guilty consciences that compelled them to say that he would be 'missed' during the service, knowing that they never really did anything. In reality nobody cared. But maybe _they_ did though. Or maybe they didn't.

They just stood in the shadows and watched.

It was when everyone had left, going back to their normal lives, not bothering to think about the dead boy who would only be remembered by his gravestone, that they decided to pay their respects. They could have saved Frank Iero, they could have told someone, anyone, about the countless beatings he endured and his suicidal thoughts, but they didn't. They felt no emotions of guilt or regret and they supposed that made them a bad person, but in the end it didn't really matter to them.

They just stood in the shadows and watched.


End file.
